


Satisfaction Brought it Back

by HungLikeARainbro



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Concubines, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2018-12-19 14:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 13,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11899890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HungLikeARainbro/pseuds/HungLikeARainbro
Summary: King Cat of Felisanya has become bored with his sex life. When his head concubine jokingly suggests that he try it with a man, he takes her seriously, and sets his eye on his new peace-offering from Britannia, a slave named David. Knowing that the King has a habit of killing unsatisfactory lovers, David’s eunuch – Krytel – suggests that he practice on another slave: a sullen man called Arnel.





	1. Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviving some of my old fics, or as Cazflibs might have me put it - defibrillating.
> 
> The reason I wrote this is because it was originally a graphic novel short that I wrote and even began designing, but sadly my artistic talents are laughable at best. But I really liked the story, so I put it into word format, at which I am semi-confident of producing.
> 
> Whilst this story seems to mostly focus on my favourite subject - Rimmer/Lister slash - I actually wrote this with the Cat mostly in mind. I have a few unfinished fanfictions, most of which won't ever be finished, with the Cat as the main character and I always end up getting bored or throwing R/L slash into it for no reason. So to make up for it, I've given the Cat a proper sub-plot. And a teensy bit of a nice personality. Almost. When he feels like it.

In the land of Felisanya there was a handsome young man who became King purely by a twist of fate. The previous King’s wife failed to produce a son by him before his untimely death in battle. After much argument amongst the High Council, the eldest son of the King ( _via_ one of his many concubines) was chosen as the most suitable heir. The son, imaginatively named Cat, was crowned King at a mere thirteen-years-old, and there began his life of physical indulgence. By the age of twenty-one he had acquired over a hundred concubines himself, and very likely several lovers not officially announced.

“And yet you say you’re bored?” the King’s head concubine huffed, rolling over in his bed to reach for a chalice of water.

“Aw, baby! Don’t take it personally,” Cat grinned. Kristine was by far his favourite lover and was treated so well by the other concubines and slaves that she was almost as egotistical as him, and she made no effort to disguise that she felt almost equal to him in status. Still, he let her get away with it. “I just… I don’t know,” Cat sighed. “There’s just something missing lately. I’ve tried cats, humans, elves. If this goes on I may have to try a dog.”

“Well, I’ve tried everything, Your Majesty. I’m sorry to disappoint you.” 

He ignored her biting tone and gave her a playful kiss. “C’mon baby, let’s go on up to the throne hall now. The Council’s been banging on about me collecting my gift.”

“Gift?”

“Some slave from Britannia. I’ve told them I’m not interested in starting a war with them but they keep sending this crap over to keep us at bay.”

“It’s because of your father,” said Kristine, dressing slowly as she never really looked forward to these events. It always involved a group of boring Lords and the suchlike dribbling over her and the other girls while the King sat on his throne pretending to be thrilled by all the peace-offerings from all the poor and war-fearing countries around the world. Before, under their previous ruler, they had been a tyrannical nation, taking over all the countries that they could and destroying morale and wealth wherever they went. But the new King couldn’t care less about war. If it didn’t make him prettier or younger, he didn’t feel the need to know about it. 

Nevertheless, Felisanya’s reputation remained and they had to endure the parades of presents fairly often.

“I hope they sent a decent slave this time. The last one was arthritic and half-deaf.”

“Oh, no, this one is far worse.” The King chuckled to himself and gestured Kristine out to the hallway. “He’s a musician!”

*******

King Cat smiled and nodded, disguising his yawns with his robe, as the simpering High Council’s figurehead, a fox named Ĉasisto, made his announcement. “Your Royal Majesty, King Cat, is presented with David Lister of Britannia!” was almost drowned out by fanfare and the King wasn’t impressed by the man he saw being dragged in by the Royal Guards.

“Whoo, this is posh innit?” the slave exclaimed, surveying the hall.

“Lower your eyes when you’re before your superior!” Cat snapped and the slave looked at the floor, grinning. _King **Cat** huh?_ he thought. _His mother couldn’t afford a Baby-Name book?_

King Cat observed the slave without much fascination. Stocky build, strange hair matted into little curly dreadlocks. And not terribly intelligent it seemed. “What’s your name again, buddy?” asked the King, in his typical informal manner that made the Lords cringe.

“David Lister, Your Majesty.” Grin.

“And why did the Queen of Britannia send you?”

“They had to send something and I was just lying around gathering dust, Your Majesty.”

King Cat’s brow furrowed and although he was annoyed by David’s disregard for authority, he was slightly amused too. It had been a long time since a person had truly interested him. Still, he had to put on a good show of authority in front of the Lords. “Arnelle! Send him to the ‘Waiting Room’ until I make up my mind what to do with him.” David felt the Guards release his shackles and a cold hand take his arm and lead him out of the hall.


	2. Kryten

“You can look up now, there’s no-one important here,” said Arnel, letting go of David’s arm. David looked all around the corridor as they walked, from the immaculate tiled flooring to the gilded elaborate ceiling and then to Arnel, a lean man with obvious Roman facial features formed into a scowl and a small quiff of curled hair on his head. Angry or not, it was nice to see another human in Felisanya. 

“Bet this place cost a bomb.”

“I wouldn’t know. It was built around 400 years ago,” Arnel replied and stopped abruptly. “We’re here - this is the ‘Waiting Room’.”

The ‘Waiting Room’ was a guest room for new slaves and possible-innocents awaiting trial during war-time. Once their fate was decided they were led to their home, or the chopping block. You could hardly say they were mistreated: the room was vast with several sofas, a large circular bed, a walk-in wardrobe, a bath that looked more like a swimming pool and a shower area that could comfortably hold ten people. The floor space was bigger than David’s house back in Britannia, and he had been sharing with five other bachelors.

“You’ll stay here until the King finds a place for you.” 

David didn’t hear a word Arnel said as he ran across the room and jumped onto the bed. “Smeg Britannia! Felisanya all the way,” he grinned and stretched out on the bed.

“Welcome back, sir,” someone said from the doorway. David lifted his head to see an elf with large ears, no hair and curious black clothing decorated with metallic embellishments, completely different to the Grecian robes and loincloths of the other residents. “You must be Mr. David! Hello, I’m your eunuch,” the elf beamed.

“My… what?”

“Your eunuch. Everyone has a pet eunuch here. My name is Kryten, but the King calls me Krytel. He gives everyone a new pet-name ending with ‘el’ or ‘elle’. Your name will probably be Mr. Daviel.”

“I don’t want to be called Daviel. My name is David: Dave to my mates. And what do you mean, ‘pet’? You can’t seriously like being called that!”

“Whatever do you mean?” Kryten beamed again, oblivious it seemed to the idea that he could be anything more than just a pet to a slave.

“Don’t worry about Krytel,” Arnel sighed. “He loves serving. It’s his dream to be of a high enough rank to serve the King in person.” 

Kryten whimpered, “Oh Mr. Arnel, sir, don’t tease me. I know I’ll never be good enough.”

“Arnel?” said David, “Didn’t the King call you Arnelle earlier?”

Arnel scowled again and David wished he’d never brought it up. “The ‘elle’ ending is normally reserved for girls,” Kryten explained.

“Oh…” was all David could say, as he hid yet another grin. 

“Enough chit-chat though, sirs,” said Kryten and he ran over to David with a tray full of delicious foreign fruits and, to David’s sheer eternal bliss, hot curries which he ate without hesitation. “Mr. Arnel, let’s run a bath for our master. They obviously didn’t look after him on the boat trip over.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” David mumbled, spitting keema naan crumbs on the floor. “I always look like this.” 

Arnel could only frown at the mess as he took Kryten aside. “He is not my master. I’m just the guard.”

“Since when have you been a guard, sir?”

“Since the King appointed me as one. Remember – I only serve him. The ranking is him, then me, then you. _That_ over there is not a part of the hierarchy until the King places him in there.”

“But the King assigned you to him, sir! He _has_ been placed in the hierarchy. He just doesn’t have a mark yet.” Kryten rubbed his own mark, a crude branding scar on the left arm depicting a number. He was a V, the lowest ranking. 

“Whatever his number is, I guarantee I’ll be higher,” said Arnel. “He is not above me.”

“If you say so, sir.”


	3. David

Cat groaned deeply as Kristine rocked on his hips slowly, bringing their lovemaking to its end. “Well?” she ventured, already knowing the answer.

“Fantastic, babe, but-”

“But,” she echoed sharply. “Not ‘fantastic’ enough.” Kristine rose and gathered up her clothes from the floor.

“For the last time, babe, I’m not blaming you or any of the other girls. You’re all awesome. Heh, especially when you do that thing with… you know…” the King grinned, nudging her with his elbow. 

Kristine shrugged, flattered more than she would ever care to admit. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. But when I can’t please you I feel like I’ve failed as your head concubine.”

“Hey, c’mon, Kristelle,” he whispered, pulling her back onto the bed. “It’s just some weird phase. Maybe I’ll be…” he gulped, “celibate for a while. Yeah, I’ll be celibate for a few weeks and then you can ride me like a pony and because of the break I’ll appreciate it more. Hmm… ponies… or maybe I should try a centaur next.” The King’s ideas were always endless and strange.

“A centaur? You’d be better off with another man.”

King Cat stared at her and exclaimed, “That _was_ a joke, right?”

“What’s wrong with having sex with men? I do it all the time.”

“Well yeah but…” the King mumbled to himself, puzzled. 

Kristine chuckled to herself. She had meant to only pull his leg but he was seriously considering it. This could be fun. “It’s all the rage in Europia, you know. And what do you think most people use eunuchs for?”

“But it can’t be just any guy. I’d have to trust that no one would ever find out.”

“How about Arnel? You’ve always been close to each other.” Kristine left the bed and prepared herself to leave for lunch.

Cat frowned. “Not Arnel. No, it would have to be someone disposable. If it didn’t work out then I could get rid of him.”

“Kill him?” she gasped. 

King Cat shook his head vehemently. “Who the hell started that stupid rumour that I kill ex-lovers? You know me – I wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Well, I might gnaw on the neck of a chicken or two…” He pulled on his robe and followed Kristine to the doorway. 

“I tell you what,” she said, kissing his neck. “That new slave, David, will scrub up quite well. How about I bring him his lunch and discuss it with him. I’ll make sure he knows that he can’t refuse.”

“David, huh? Davel… Daviel… yeah, he seemed cool. If you think this would work then I’ll go for it. If it goes okay then I could start a new trend. Everyone could have a gay slave by the end of the year!”

“Indeed. Well, I’ll be back tomorrow with him. Say, seven o’clock?”

“Seven it is. See you later, babe. I don’t know why you’re so good to me.” Cat stepped aside as Kristine opened the door and with one last kiss goodbye, closed it again. 

She stood by the door for a moment, pinned by the feeling of her heart tearing in half. “You stupid bastard,” she whispered into her hand, her voice breaking. “No… stupid _me_. Stupid, _stupid_ me.”


	4. Kristine

“Lunch!” Kryten called cheerfully from the doorway. 

David looked up from his game of cards. “Didn’t I just have lunch? Those curries and fruit and things.”

“Silly Mr. Daviel. That was brunch.”

“Smegging hell, you guys invented a meal between breakfast and lunch? How many meals are there each day?” David stopped when he saw Kristine bringing in his lunch tray. “Hel-lo! I remember you from the hall earlier. You stood out a mile from all those other girls.”

“Yes,” she frowned. “I’m the _King’s_ head concubine.”

“Smeg. Story of my life,” he told a confused Kryten who had obviously never witnessed flirting. He was escorted by Kristine to the door and after a hushed discussion he left her alone with David. 

“Eat,” she politely recommended to him. He didn’t need to be told twice to accept free food. 

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I think you should finish eating first.”

“You’re obviously here to tell me something important and I’d rather just know. If I’m going to lose me head tomorrow then I’d like to know now so I can savour all this grub.”

“Oh, you won’t be losing your _head_ ,” she smiled. “You’ll be losing your virginity. The King wants you for his first male concubine.”

David stopped eating. “Wow… didn’t give me much warning, did you? Can’t I be beheaded instead?”

“You’ll be executed if you refuse, yes.”

“Well, we having a saying where I come from that fits this situation: Buggered if you do, and buggered if you don’t.”

Outside the doorway, Kryten pressed against the door listening intently to the conversation.

“What’s going on?” 

Kryten jumped at the sound of Arnel’s voice and explained enthusiastically that the King had propositioned David. “WHAT?!” Arnel yelped, clamping a hand over his mouth immediately after his outburst. “What?” he repeated more quietly, pushing Kryten aside to listen for himself. All he could hear was Kristine’s muffled but serious tone. Kryten’s large, pointed elf ears worked far better than his sticky-out human ones. “You’re sure?”

“Positive, Mr. Arnel.”

“Well… did he respond?”

“Not really,” said Kryten, distressed that he could not be of more help to him. Arnel ran a hand through his curls and contemplated the situation carefully. He didn’t really like David – well, if Arnel was honest with himself he didn’t really like most people – but he wasn’t going to give up his cushy new job of being his guard. If David became a concubine then he would be taken away to be protected by the Royal Guard. And Arnel would be back to cleaning and dusting. It was just plain humiliating when he considered his upbringing.

He shook out of his thoughts at the sound of the heavy door sliding open and hitting his foot. “What are you doing?” asked Kristine, knowing full well the answer.

“I’m the guard ma’am. I have to watch David.”

“I’m perfectly trustworthy, Arnel. You know that.”

“My orders were to trust no-one and suspect everyone, ma’am.” He almost spat the ‘ma’am’. Kristine shrugged. She never felt the need to bully anyone of a lower rank. It was easy pickings. She much preferred the challenge of thrusting her opinions at those in power. 

“Daviel will be leaving his room tomorrow evening at seven o’clock for an audience with the King. He won’t return until the morning.”

“May I ask what could possibly take that long?” said Arnel, trying to hide a sneer.

Kristine smiled sweetly back, “Well, of course _you_ wouldn’t know.”

“What are we talking about?” whined Kryten, annoyed at being left out of the conversation.

“Nothing, Kryten. Miss Kristine is just being crude.”

“You’re awfully confident for a slave, _Arnelle_.”

“You’re awfully confident for a prostitute, ma’am.”

Kryten stood there, his mouth gaping at the two of them. Kristine had been completely knocked back by Arnel’s retort, and he seemed a bit shocked as well. Luckily for him, she simply stormed off and he gratefully scuttled back into the Waiting Room.


	5. Arnel

“Forgive me Mr. Arnel, but did you completely lose your mind just then?!”

“I know, I know. I don’t know what came over me - don’t go on about it,” Arnel moaned. 

David munched his food solemnly as they squabbled. “Don’t you want to know what she wanted?” he said, desperate for someone to give him support and more preferably a solution.

“We overheard,” Kryten said, sheepishly. “So, erm… Good luck!”

“I don’t want luck! I want to get out of this!”

“I’m sure it won’t be so bad, sir.”

“I don’t even know the guy. I don’t shag anyone I don’t know. Not unless I’m drunk.” Kryten tried to reassure David that the King would probably allow him to get drunk. “But I’m just not… prepared,” David wailed back. “And only practice makes perfect, and who would I practice with?!”

Kryten’s line of vision wandered over to Arnel, “Well…”

“No! Absolutely not,” said David.

“I concur,” Arnel griped to himself quietly.

“But the King _kills_ unworthy lovers. It’s a well-documented factual rumour.”

 _Why, why, WHY_ , David’s mind screamed at him. _If you hadn’t played your guitar in the town square on St. George’s day, the Queen would never have shipped you off as a slave as punishment. You wouldn’t be in Felisanya on the brink of becoming a rent-boy_. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.”

“I do. I’m not getting involved in any of this.” Arnel folded his arms defiantly. 

But David just smiled secretly to himself. “Ah but you see, Arnie, you have to do what I tell you.”

“What?”

“You and Kryten are mine, and I can do what I want with you. Or I’ll tell the King that you disobeyed me and then it’d be chop-chop for you!” David sliced his hand through the air for emphasis. Arnel stamped his foot like a moody child and let out a short vocal exclamation to sum up his severe loathing for David.

“But the King likes virgin lovers, sir. If he found out what you did, then you would be sentenced to death,” Kryten pointed out.

“Yes! Exactly!” Arnel roared in delight. “You’d die either way.”

“But you’d go down with me, if you’ll ignore the double entendre.”

“The King would never execute me. And you wouldn’t dare turn me in,” Arnel growled.

“Try me, mate,” David growled in return. 

Kryten looked on as they stood nose-to-nose, throwing threats at each other. “Well,” he mumbled shyly, “they say angry sex is the best sex.”

“WE ARE NOT GOING TO HAVE SEX!” Arnel shrieked at him. Kryten burst into tears. “Ah! I didn’t mean to…” he began to explain but David pushed him aside and patted the bawling elf. 

“He’s just trying to help you, you smeg.”

“What’s a ‘smeg’?”

“It’s… never mind.” David chuckled. 

Arnel frowned at him, thinking that he was being mocked. “Come on, tell me.”

“I’ll just say it’s related to the previous convo’ and leave it at that.” David led Kryten to the bathing area and poured him a glass of water. Arnel followed them, watching David with utmost contempt. Kryten sipped the water demurely until his crying-induced hiccoughs subsided. 

“Thank you, sir,” he said, smiling widely at David.

“No prob, Kryts. We’re sorry for fighting. Right, Arnel?”

“Yes…” he answered, noncommittally. David sighed. 

“Don’t worry sir,” Kryten beamed at him, “We’ll think of something. I only wish I could help but… well, I’m a bit lacking in that department.” Arnel had watched them with a mixed feeling. They were looking out for one another, even though they barely knew each other. He couldn’t understand it. He’d only ever experienced compassion once before, and that was from the King. It was why he dedicated himself to making the King happy. Yes… he had almost forgotten that.

“I’ll do it,” he sighed. 

Kryten and David stared at him. “Seriously?” David asked.

“But not because I want to!”

David grinned, “I would never, ever imply that.”

“It’s because of the King. He’s my master and it’s my job to make him happy. And if having you for a lover makes him happy then so be it.”

“Someone’s got a master-complex, eh?” David whispered to Kryten. Arnel didn’t snap at him for the remark. He just stood there in his own quiet reverie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note;  
> Not all eunuchs were/are fully castrated.


	6. Fellatio

Arnel’s arms flailed upward as he gripped the pillows at the head of the bed. David’s tongue flicked over the tip of his cock thrice before his whole mouth engulfed it again. He was suspiciously good at oral sex and if Arnel’s brain hadn’t been dribbling out of every cephalic orifice he’d have made a snide remark about his so-called innocence at male-on-male interrelations.

At the business end of things, David was equally surprised by how much he was enjoying the activities and the warm supple flesh sliding over his tongue. He should have given this a whirl years ago. His thumb caressed the meeting point of shaft and balls; if he remembered right it was about now that an old girlfriend of his would…

“Bloody hell!” Arnel shrieked.

“Oh my,” Kryten gasped. “Is he all right?”

“Bit sensitive, mate? Sorry about that,” David chuckled after Arnel’s cock slipped from his mouth with an unattractive slurp. He flopped over with a pathetic whine and David couldn’t help eyeing his pert buttocks. Shame he wouldn’t be privy to anything there. That was going to be his role eventually. “Let’s call it a day, eh?”

“Aww,” Kryten pouted. “I found that most educational, sirs.” He got down from his vantage point sitting upon the dressing table and proceeded to dab at David’s mouth with a wet cloth. He batted him away as nicely as possible. Arnel was already stood in the shower, washing their interaction away.

“I’m going to clean up too. Kryts, I would love something to nibble right about now.” He winked cheekily. “Something more nutritional, I mean.”

“Right away, sir!” He beamed naively and eagerly went to carry out his command. David shrugged off his technicolour shirt and dipped a hand into the ridiculously large bath. It was the perfect temperature for the sweltering Felisanya clime and he discarded the rest of his outfit, bombing straight into the water. When he surfaced, Arnel was watching him derisively, dressed in only a towel, moist curls sticking to his forehead. It was a good look on him, David decided, apart from the scowl. 

“Did I splosh ya?” he teased, splashing his feet just in case he had failed before. “You were wet anyway, what’s with that face?”

“You could have broken your legs, diving in like that. You had no idea how deep the water was.”

“Could’ve been handy. Might have put the king off for a few weeks.”

Arnel looked aghast at him. “Don’t tell me that was on purpose?”

“Nah,” said David, casually floating back in the water. 

The apple in Arnel’s throat shot up and down at the sight on display. Thank goodness that wasn’t going anywhere near him. “I have to dress and go back on guard duty,” he announced sharply. “There is some cleaning paste and a brush for your mouth. I’m sure you’ll want it at some point.”

“In my country that’s more of a morning and night thing.”

“Yes but you just… I mean… the taste…” His face turned adorably pink from embarrassment.

David shrugged. “Wasn’t that bad really. Suppose twenty years of curry will have that effect on the old taste buds.”

Arnel’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ of confusion as he contemplated this. He abruptly excused himself and left David to his ablutions.


	7. Guarded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY I GOT DISTRACTED BY OTHER FIC AND SEASON XII HYPE AAAAAAHHHHHH

Arnel could hear David continue to frolic about in the water like an overly excited merman as he stood on the other side of the doorway stroking one of the elbow-high metal cuffs he wore over his forearms. He nodded curtly when Kryten returned with David’s tea – speciality nibbles, individual cakes and a sweet mead that he was sure to appreciate – and stood at ease, moving the long spear he had absolutely no idea how to use out of his pathway.

Soon tea was exchanged for supper and supper for dinner and the sun dipped below distant mountains and the sky turned Arnel’s favourite shade of cobalt blue. By the time the stars came out and the sky blackened, Kryten had sleepily excused himself from service after bringing David one last midnight snack.

Arnel’s legs began to give way from standing for so long. He wasn’t built for this type of career he was dismally beginning to realise. His brother would really have to scratch some backs to get him into the military at this rate. Perhaps once training started his body would hopefully man up.

“Arnie?”

Arnel flinched at the voice from beyond the door. _Arnie?_ He let it slide just this once. “You should rest.”

“I can’t. I’m going mad-bored, mate. Can we chat?”

Chat? He snorted. What prisoner chats with their guard? One who’s trying to escape. “Oh ho, sonny-Jim, you’re not fooling me, my old mucker. I know how this works – the moment my back is turned it’s a vase to the head and you’re sneaking out wearing my toga. No sir, you’re staying put, young man.”

“I’m just asking you to come in so’s we can hang out.”

“No.”

“Alright, then I’m telling you to come in.”

Arnel huffed. He had him by the iron balls with that one. “One wrong move, and you get a spear in you.”

“Thought that was happening anyway,” David quipped, then stood back as Arnel opened the door as little as he could and slipped through the gap. David had already changed into his Felisanyan clothes that had been left for him. The simple brown loincloth seemed to be struggling with its burden and his smooth beer belly jutted slightly over the top. He had foregone the basic leather jewellery and sandals offered to him and was strutting happily around in his bare (and finally clean after weeks on a ship) feet. Arnel rather preferred the clothes he’d arrived in. They covered more.

David bounced back towards his bed, indicating for Arnel to join him, and cracked open one of the meads he’d saved from his earlier meals. “Want some?”

“I’m on duty,” Arnel sniffed, still standing by the door.

“Just a sip.”

“I take my job seriously.”

“You saying I don’t?” said David with a cheeky wink that made Arnel turn pink. “I thought I did my job very well.”

“Yes well, I’d be lying if I said you didn’t achieve your goal.”

David plucked a loose fibre from his underwear. “Technically I didn’t. I didn’t make you… y’know.”

“No but…” Arnel’s cheeks deepened in colour. “I wasn’t far off.”

“Really?” David grinned. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Why in the name of Cloistus would I confess to something like that if it wasn’t true?”

“Just a bit of a shame. All those months I wasted driving carts around Procidas when I could’ve made more money as a rent boy”

“You’ve been to Iove? I’ve always wanted to go there. My fam-”

David looked up from his drink at Arnel hugging his spear tightly. “It’s a nice place. In some parts. Not if you’re slumming it like I was.”

“Yes, it’s not the type of country to be if you’re low on cash.” He suddenly moved towards the bed and set his weapon on the ground. “But I’d like to know what you got up to. Places you went. Is the observatory still there?”

David handed him the mug and began to captivate his audience with tales of major misadventures and general tomfoolery.


	8. Mistake

“Hey, how you doing, I’m Cat.” The King’s mouth stretched painfully into a disingenuous smile, fangs pressing into his full lips. He stopped before they could breach the skin and cause blood to flow and thus caused his reflection to gaze miserably back. “That’s such a dumb thing to say. Are you crazy?” he scolded the image. “He knows who I am. I mean, who doesn’t?”

“Still practising I see,” a soft voice lilted from the bedroom door and he turned in relief to see his favourite pastime leaning against the frame. “I’ve never seen you nervous over a conquest before.”

“Nervous? Pshaw. I’m King Cat. The only thing I get nervous about is oversleeping and missing my afternoon manicure.”

Kristine wrapped soothing arms around his waist. “As if I would ever let that happen.”

“You’re the best babe.” He grinned at her petite form peeking over his shoulder at their reflection. “How’s my new plaything? You saw him this afternoon, right?”

“He’s looking forward to making your acquaintance,” she finally said after choosing her words most carefully.

“Cool, cool. How’s Arnel? He doing okay as a guard? Gotta admit I’m counting the minutes until the guy screws up.”

She stiffened against his back. “I don’t know why you keep indulging him with these little tasks around the palace.”

Cat sighed. “It’s safer for everyone, trust me babe. Especially after what happened in the training camp. Something about fish? I know it was something about fish. I never forget anything involving fish.”

“What’s safer is if you just exile him. I know he doesn’t _mean_ to disrupt things. But that’s part of the problem.”

“Kristelle.” The king’s mouth twisted into a hard pout. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then don’t ask,” she snapped and stormed out. Okay, so he’d sashayed right into that one. Cat stretched lazily and saw that he’d have to call on one of his other girls for the night.

*******

Arnel wheezed quietly into his hand as a laugh of disbelief escaped him. He had noticed the tattoo on David’s thigh when he had swum in the bath earlier but felt no reason to comment at the time. “I can’t believe anyone could get that drunk,” he groaned once his sides stopped aching.

“Yeah well, I was stuck on the Red Dwarf for weeks. Not much else to do but agree to get a mate’s name tattooed on your leg.”

Arnel continued to snigger through his spacious nostrils, downing a little more of the mead. “I always wanted to go to sea, but I get sick just looking at boats.”

“It’s below decks that bothers me,” David shivered. “Like being in a floating coffin.”

Arnel nodded. “That’s why I changed my mind to joining the military.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded again. “Absolutely. That sort of thing has been in my family for generations. Sort of. It’s complicated.”

“So spill! I’m not going anywhere,” David reminded him. His fingers were tantalisingly running up and down Arnel’s side. Was he aware of that? Or that his lips were mere inches from his own?

Arnel could feel himself swaying a little even though he was lying down. Lying down. On David’s bed. He was supposed to be guarding this man. Not drinking and gossiping like neighbours over a fence. Not letting him shift closer so that the ropes holding the mattress in place strained and they rolled into one another. He sat up immediately and swooned at the rush of pain in his head. 

“Whoah, lie down guy.” David coaxed him back down onto the pillows. “You’re too pished to go jumping about like that.”

“Pished?” he echoed groggily.

David chuckled. “In-joke with my friends. Speaking of friends…” He poured a glass of water and nudged it towards Arnel. He took a few begrudging sips whilst David slipped on his sandals. “I’m going to go find Kryts. See if he can whip you up one of their old hangover cures for the morning. I think you’re going to need it.” 

Arnel’s hand shot out instantly gripping his arm with fervour. “You can’t go out there alone, they’ll think you’ve escaped! They’ll kill you and gods knows what they’ll do to me and then Cat will be furious because he has to make excuses for me again and-”

“Cat?” Considering how by-the-book Arnel had seemed about everything else, his casual use of the king’s given name shocked David. “You call your king ‘Cat’?”

He realised what he had done and had never sobered up so quickly in his life. “I said ‘King Cat’. Obviously. You misheard.”

“No, I didn’t,” he replied slowly and fixed Arnel with a cool glare. “Don’t minotaur-shit me.”

Arnel swallow thickly. Something about this man drew strange new feelings and desires out of him. He hated lying to him. He needed to tell. Was desperate to tell. “Cat and I…” He trembled.

David was back on the bed beside him. Warm. Comforting. Here.

“He’s… my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Eastenders drumroll*


	9. Family

“He’s… my brother.”

“Your brother?” David exclaimed. “Sorry mate, but… you look nothing alike.”

“We’re not blood-related. Our background is… like I said, complicated.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” David said again, smiling at him through the darkness.

Arnel began, reluctantly, “The previous King had many concubines but he also had a wife. A Queen’s job is to produce an heir and be a figurehead while the King is away. The Queen did have three children, but they were all girls – Joanne, Frances and Honoria – and they were married off to neighbouring countries to promote peace and alliances. Then in her last few child-bearing years she finally bore a son. But even before he was born it was obvious he wasn’t the King’s son. The King had been at war for several months. So the child – and if you haven’t guessed yet, it was me – was sent to live among the concubines’ children. I hardly ever saw my real mother.”

David listened silently, stroking Arnel’s shoulder.

“The King came back and everyone acted like nothing had happened. Some years later he died and the Queen was barren by then. There was no heir. The High Council was divided over what to do. The only son the King had that was old enough to take the throne was by a concubine. The only other choice was me, which meant that the Royal bloodline would end. In the end, Cat was chosen. The Queen kicked up a fuss at her reign ending just so Cat could take over. She was so determined that the High Council thought it would be best to kill me.”

“Kill you?!”

“But Cat he… his first decree as ruler was that I would be allowed to live as his servant. There could be no dispute over it. Whatever the King’s word is, it’s final.”

“Then he saved your life.”

“We never really got along, so to speak. I can’t think of a day in our formative years where we didn’t wrestle for the last glass of milk at breakfast. I don’t even _like_ milk. I just knew he _did_.”

David chortled at the thought. Kids being kids.

“But,” Arnel continued, his curls glancing against David’s thigh as he turned into him, “We were raised together. We’re brothers, even if we aren’t related. So, yes, he saved me. And, yes, I want to make him happy to repay him. But doing this… thing with you. I can’t decide if I’m helping him or betraying him.”

“You should’ve just said so, man! I would never have made you do it if I’d known.”

“I never thought to tell you. It’s a big secret, you see. I mean, look,” Arnel said, gesturing to his body. There’s a difference between me and the other slaves. Can you guess?”

Lister considered the flat faces of the elves he’d seen scuttling around. “Your nose?”

“No.” He shook his arm at him. “I wear these large bracelets over my lower arms.”

“Oh yeah! All the others have numbers on their arms. You can’t see yours though.” Arnel unclipped the left bracelet and turned up the oil lamp for extra light. “Before I was taken away, my mother made sure I was given my true number. The other slaves have four or five, depending on their rank.”

“But yours is eleven?”

Arnel sighed, “It’s a two – they’re Roman numerals.”

“I know, I was joking. Trying to lighten your mood.”

Arnel smiled appreciatively at David, letting out a long overdue sigh of relief. “I haven’t even known you a day and I’ve already gone to bed with you and told you the biggest secret of my life.”

“Don’t worry. I’m great at keeping secrets. I’ve never told a soul that my old scrumping mate shot off his own left testicle when he was twelve.”

“You’re joking again, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” David laughed. 

Arnel grabbed David’s hand from his arm and sat up, staring at him. “You honestly won’t say anything to anyone?”

“I swear, man.”

Arnel, sighing again, took a deep gulp of saliva and mumbled, “Then I’ll keep helping you. With… with this.”

David swallowed too as Arnel moved his hand lower. “Wh… now?!”

“Yes I… I just can’t do it with Krytel watching. You know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” David nodded at him. “Sooo… I suppose we should start then?”

“I suppose so,” Arnel mumbled, their faces brushing close. A timid glance, a hand on a cheek, and their lips met.


	10. Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some moderate smut for your patience.

Arnel’s heart pounded as David leant back on the bed, drawing him on top. This was different than before. It wasn’t clinical or forced. David wanted Arnel’s hands gripping his side. Arnel wanted David’s arms around him too. He unclipped his second bracelet and threw it aside. Threading his arm under David’s body, Arnel untied the flimsy cloths covering his waist.

Naked and trembling in the cool night air, they lay exploring, each becoming relaxed in the other’s company and warming up through natural body heat and a suddenly intensifying passion. A bottle of oil mysteriously appeared in David’s hand and the cold slick made them both shudder when it trickled over their cocks. There was a quavering sigh as David stroked them together. He looked up at Arnel inquisitively.

“My name’s Arnold, by the way. My human name.”

“Suits you,” David murmured. “Can I still call you Arnie?”

“Actually, I never gave you permission to do that,” he smirked. It soon transformed into a frown as he concentrated desperately on keeping his voice down as David trailed his lips lower and took his cock in his mouth again. The man was a fast learner and the oil made each bob of his head smooth and swift and heated. Arnold tensed at the finger probing lower and circling his puckered hole.

“Sorry,” David gasped. “I got carried away. I shou-”

“Keep going, for the love of Cloistus, keep going,” Arnold rasped, his thighs almost clamping shut on David’s head when he pressed a finger inside infuriatingly slowly.

*******

“I think we got that the wrong way round,” David mumbled sheepishly.

Above him, Arnold shrugged. “We’ll just have to try again until we get it right.”

“I like the sound of that,” he replied, nosing against the slowly rising chest underneath his head.

“But for now, I should get back on duty.”

“Can you?”

Arnold attempted to sit and immediately gave up with an agonised wince. “Perhaps not.”

“Soz, mate.”

Arnold shook his head and blushed. “It’s not your fault. You were very accommodating to my nervousness.”

“One should always be a gentleman in bed, if nowhere else,” he grinned. “But I should definitely get some practice in tomorrow. I don’t know if the King will be as patient.” He curled back up beside Arnold. “Besides, if you’re guarding me I can’t think of a better place to be than right next to me. No-one can get past that.”

“Maybe so, but I’m in no condition to be fighting anyone off. Though,” he added wryly, “if I’m honest I probably wouldn’t anyway.”

“You’d leave me to fend for myself? Some guard you are,” David admonished jokingly.

“I’d hand you my spear before I legged it, I’m not completely despicable.”

David chuckled, carding Arnold’s curls through his fingers. “That’s something I suppose. If it came down to it though, I’d protect you.”

Arnold shifted beneath him but there was no reply other than the soft hum of pre-snore breaths as he drifted to sleep, David following suit moments after.


	11. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Smegmas! Wait no, that sounds disgusting...

David rolled over and waved his arm blindly across the extensive bed to find the warmth of his lover’s body. Finding nothing, he opened bleary eyes and saw the room was empty apart from Kryten serving up a breakfast of exotic spiced fruits and yoghurts. He groaned at the eunuch’s cheerful chirrup of, “Good morning, sir! I hope you slept well.”

“Eventually,” he replied with a conspiratorial chuckle. “Where’s Arn?”

Kryten looked curious at the nickname but was professional enough not to ask. “I’m not quite sure. He summoned another guard to take over and left early this morning.”

David had a sinking feeling. Arnold was strait-laced and easily mortified. He probably woke up in horror at his bedfellow under the unforgiving light of morning and ran away for some kind of ritual punishment. Or maybe he’d really hurt him and he had to go see a physician. Either way the feeling sunk all the way down to Davy Jones’s locker.

“Don’t worry, sir, I’m sure he’ll be back in time for your fitting.”

“Me what?”

“Your new clothes. Concubines and lovers must wear attire that is alluring to the King.”

David thought bleakly about the exuberant purple outfit and chrome robes King Cat had worn when they first met. He was going to be mutton masala dressed as lamb vindaloo.

*******

“Arnelle! Wassup, monkey-boy?” 

Arnold froze in mid-step and swivelled on the spot to find the grinning face of his brother. He mumbled a weak greeting.

“Great, great!” the King chortled. “Buddy, I need your opinion. How’re my threads?”

Arnold took in the apricot woollen toga and green tunic. “Awful.”

“Then I must be looking fabulous because you never did have taste.” King Cat chortled again and Arnold doubled up as his back was patted forcefully. “How’s your new assignment going?”

“Very well,” Arnold replied. Not looking Cat in the eye.

“It gives you something to do, I guess. The Council were getting all bitchy about you hanging around doing nothing.”

“But you know I don’t want to be a guard. I wanted to be in the military.”

“You can’t unless you pass the exams. You’ve failed thirteen times! I can only pull so many strings, buddy.”

“Twelve times. The last one didn’t count as a fail. I passed out an hour before it even began. That’s a disqualification.”

Cat could only laugh at Arnold’s obstinacy and patted him on the back again, “It doesn’t matter. Seems like you’re doing a good job of taking care of that guy.”

“Mm…” Arnold shook off Cat’s hand and dismissed himself.

*******

“Where have YOU been?” David roared at Arnold before he even had a chance to step into the room. “You’re supposed to be guarding me.”

“I left someone outside. And Krytel was here.”

“Kryts couldn’t beat up a blind leper with an inner-ear infection.” Kryten’s displeasure at this dismissive comment went unnoticed as David became engrossed in the act of poking Arnold in the chest and telling him off.

Taken aback, it took Arnold a little while before he could come up with a decent answer. “I had other duties.”

“That’s not an excuse.” David scratched at his arm and shyly stared at the ground. “When I woke up alone I thought…” He lowered his voice. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” he whispered back with an even shyer look. “You were quite gentle.”

David’s face shone with a complimentary pride. “You’ve no idea how much I had to hold back. You felt amazing.”

Kryten watched on from his cleaning duties at their quiet awkward blushes with some concern. If they were going to act like that around one another how were they ever going to have intercourse properly?


	12. Preparation

David grimaced as the two seamstresses meddled around him, pulling various limbs and manoeuvring parts of him (that were still tingling from the previous night and so being handled by attractive women was absolutely not helping matters) into unnatural positions as they swaddled him in luminously striped cloth then dabbed sticky and powdery substances onto his face. From the other side of the modesty ( _Ha!_ thought David) screen Kryten waited impatiently. “I do rather agree yellow is your colour, but the hints of black are inspired,” he called to them.

David stepped out, the lemon train held up from the floor by his helpers. “Inspired? I look like a wasp. A wasp that wears kohl.” His unaccustomed eyes were weeping and smudging his make-up already.

“Oh sir, nonsense. You’re absolutely divine. The King will eat you up. Euphemistically speaking, of course.”

“I’m fine now, thanks.” David tugged his clothes away from the women’s hold in a polite but firm way. They gathered up the unused materials and left, tittering to themselves. He groaned after them. “At least they agree with me. Must have been painful for them to design something like that on his behalf. Letting other people dictate your work; that’s a real killer for true artists.”

“You speak from experience?” said Arnold coming in from the doorway now that the coast was clear. He stifled a burst of laughter at the outfit.

“Whatever you hear people say about my music, it’s not true. I’m a real musician.”

Arnold wasn’t listening. His eyes were roving over the pleats swishing across the freshly shaved thighs. Jealously, but more lustfully, he wondered just how much of David’s hair the woman had tackled. He coughed softly into his hand and motioned Kryten over to him. “Krytel, why don’t you go fetch a small snack. David won’t be able to eat anything later. Not right before… certain activities.”

“An astute observation, sir. I shall away at this very moment.”

Arnold rubbed his hands together and approached the other grumbling human once Kryten had gone. “I have to say, you do look ridiculous.”

“Thanks a smegging bunch,” David growled, pulling off the garish garments. He didn’t need to be told what he already knew. He swore as his arm caught against one of the metal clasps. 

“Here,” said Arnold, freeing his elbow. “Let me do it.” He’d seen plenty of these outfits on the other concubines and had sneakily watched them take them off a dozen times. A risky pastime, but worth it. He unwound the sheets around a few times and soon David’s head emerged and his body became mostly free. “Just this clasp and… done.” Arnold folded it up and handed it to him.

They looked at each other for a shy moment before David took the outfit. “Thanks. I’m a bit useless at that kind of thing. You lot wear really fancy stuff.”

“Just the important people and concubines. The rest of us wear simple togas or loin cloths the same as you.”

“It’s just a skirt, really,” David said and plucked at the small sheet of cloth wound around his hips.

“Sort of.”

“Nothing underneath.”

“Nope.”

“Doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”

“Practically nude.”

“One harsh breeze and it’s gone.”

“And then – completely nude.”

They both raised their eyebrows realising they’d stepped closer in the same instant. David’s lip quirked up and he brought his hands around Arnold’s waist. “Want to practice some more? Never did get around to what we set out for.”

Arnold’s eyes roved again towards the bath. “First, let’s get that make-up off you.”


	13. Reprise

Whilst David and Arnold enthusiastically disrobed on the other side of the palace, Kristine was unenthusiastically re-robing the king in a deep purple and gold tunic he had received as a gift from the Middle Kingdom.

“I dunno,” King Cat pondered out loud. “Maybe it’s a little too flowing. I want to reek of sexy. What about that red loin thing I got from the Nipponese emperor? I need something tight that shows off my perfect ass.”

“The fundoshi? Are you sure?” Kristine smiled neutrally. “He might think you’re offering it as an option.”

“Offering what as an option?”

She looked at him pointedly until his brain caught up and his face was a picture as he hurriedly pulled off the changshan and wrapped his favourite fur robe around himself protectively. “No way!”

“You’d get used to it,” she teased but he wasn’t in the mood. He really _was_ nervous.

*******

The towel beneath them was sopping wet but it was more comfortable than lying directly on the tiles and David saw no reason to bother drying off and make their way to the bed when they were both hard and ready to go. Fortunately for him Arnold had the slightest sliver of sense knocking about his head and he paused his groping just long enough to peel away and crawl towards the bottle of oil left behind by the servants earlier.

“Good idea,” David puffed, flopping ungracefully onto his elbows and knees. The sensation of the scratchy fabric against his nipples made him groan softly and Arnold turned thinking he’d hurt himself.

“Oh good gods,” Arnold squeaked at the lewd display.

“C’mon, man!” David said. “Don’t leave me hanging.” 

He was literally hanging – his large cock swinging heavily between his legs as he wriggled impatiently and Arnold squeaked again then cleared his throat hoping to get the more masculine timbre back. He poured the oil between the crack of David’s rear and massaged it around, trying desperately to ignore the sounds he was making otherwise he’d never hold out long enough to do anything worth calling practice.

That thought sobered him immediately. That was all this was. The bottle slipped from his hands and left a swirl of oil on the floor as it spun around. The clatter brought David’s head up from chewing on his arms.

“Sorry,” said Arnold. “It’s going everywhere. I’m not very good at this.”

David was about to say something comforting but as he moved back to touch him the oil that had indeed gone everywhere caused him to slip back and bring Arnold toppling down with him. “Smeg!”

“I’m so sorry!”

“I’m alright, nothing broken.” He laughed but at Arnold’s lowered gaze he brought a hand up to his cheek. “Honest, I’m fine.” He tucked his fingers under his chin and brought his face up for reluctant eye-contact. “You worry a lot, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just something I’ve noticed. Your brain’s always brewing away over something.”

Arnold didn’t like being read so easily but he trusted David not to use his neuroticism against him and in most other situations for that matter. He’d walk over coals if he told him they weren’t lit. What was it about him that brought that out?

“Arnie… you’ve got that brewing look on you.”

Arnold kissed him, suddenly and roughly, and he found himself flat back on the towel as a puddle of oil was scooped up from the floor and used to lube him again. Legs parted, arse lifted and hole breached in moments and he stuffed his dreads into his mouth to stifle his moans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in a sort of pseudo-version of Earth so I've borrowed and modified names and terms for fun
> 
> Middle Kingdom - the name for China (in the real world) in the local languages (and a few other places) literally means Middle Kingdom.  
> Nippon (also Nihon) - the real-world Japanese name for Japan  
> Fundoshi - traditional underwear from Japan that looks a bit like a thong, more normally reserved for festivals in modern day  
> Changshan - the male version of a Chinese cheongsam, though both garments can be called cheongsam. There's different styles for both but normally it's a long jacket for men and a long dress with a slit up the side for women with a high wrapped collar
> 
> Good god I would love to see Cat in any of those. Curse my artless hands.


	14. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh... I April Foolsed myself by thinking I uploaded this days ago? *is a moron*

Back bowed to keep mouths together and cock in place, Arnold slowed his thrusts to imitate the gentle love-making from that previous night. David was right – it was torture to hold back. Everything in his flesh and skin screamed for him to pound and bite and scratch until they practically melded into a beast with two backs, but the temporary satisfaction wouldn’t be worth the damage caused. He grunted unhappily as their sweating foreheads slipped past one another and he found himself buried in the crook of David’s neck instead. He sucked out a shivered moan from that flash of throat and his body gave in at the sound, spilling his seed inside the swollen hole below.

“Mate,” David breathed out. “Smeg, why did I wait twenty-three years to try THAT out?”

“Well,” Arnold sighed back, “for one thing I would hope that for the first sixteen or so you would be unavailable for such activities with any gender.”

“More like twelve.” David smiled sheepishly as Arnold lifted his head with a concerned frown upon his brow. “Shocked?”

More like jealous. Not that Arnold wanted to have lost his virginity at twelve, but the opportunity to do so might have been nice. The truth was far more humiliating. “I lost mine to the kingdom’s top female gladiator,” he said, though he omitted that it had only been the previous year.

“Sounds like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“It was brief, and that’s being kind to myself. Not to mention she’d just come back from a day’s worth of bouts and I think her head had met with something heavy and blunt a few too many times over the course.” His head fell back onto David’s chest. “I don’t think she even remembers.”

“That’s smegged up.”

“Indeed.”

The pair jumped at the sound of a loud wail from the doorway. Kryten was close to a tantrum. “Oh sirs! How could you do it without _me_?”

“More like how could we do it _with_ …” Arnold muttered and draped their discarded clothing around them for modesty’s sake.

The elf continued to scold them about doing such things in the open. He had a point. Any of the guards could have walked in and then they would have all been for the chop. They said their subdued sorries, looking remorseful enough that Kryten allowed David to eat in peace after washing the oil away – Arnold taking care of his own mess before returning to his duties at the door with a wistful glance back.

*******

A few hours passed without further ado until Arnold’s body went rigid at the sight of Kristine escorting the servant girls back to the Waiting Room. It was time and he was sick to the stomach, but that was probably nothing compared to how David felt. Not that the thought made him feel better. 

Worse. Definitely.

“Ma’am,” he said as she approached.

“Oh? On better behaviour tonight, are we?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He was too ill to argue. Too ill to notice her expression was not all that dissimilar. He granted them access and took his place back in front of the door. He simply could not watch the preparations.

*******

David stood numbly as he was fussed over. The scented oil stung his skin a bit and they seemed to have pulled the costume in tighter than before.

“De-emphasise that thing,” said Kristine, glancing at his crotch. “His Majesty might get a complex.”

“Poor Kingy-poos,” said David. ‘That thing’ was promptly tucked away in an awkward position and he jerked his head to the side in a pained hiss.

Kristine narrowed her eyes and took a step forward. “What is that mark on your neck?”

David hid the patch of flesh. He didn’t need a mirror to know what she was talking about. The fresh, raw love-bite from his guard. “Mosquitoes, babe – all over the place in this country.”

“Cover it,” she told the girls and they swiftly patted his neck with foundation.


	15. Farewell

Arnold stood aside for the last time to allow David and his entourage out. He swallowed down the ache in his chest. “Good luck,” he said. It was a stupid thing to say, really. Unsuitable. Luck wasn’t what was needed when you were being led away to have sex with someone you barely knew and didn’t even want. ‘Good luck’ when you were about to go and be… he didn’t even want to think the word. But that’s what it was. He couldn’t rose-tint it. No matter how he felt about his brother – standing aside and condoning his actions, contributing to them; he was just as bad.

Worse, David didn’t even seem to hate him for it. Just smiled at him and looked back over his shoulder with a wave. “I’ll see you around, yeah? Hope you get into that military-thing.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Kristine as they rounded the corner and Arnold left their sight.

“He wants to be a soldier or some smeg like that.”

“Not that. I mean seeing him again. Of course you won’t see him again.”

“Eh?” David stopped. “Not ever?”

“Of course not. Concubines are kept away from anyone that is not another concubine, female guard, or a eunuch. To preserve their integrity.”

“Preserve? I’m not a smegging jam!”

“Well, like it or not the king is going to spread you like one.”

“And what about you, you’re seriously okay with that? Being jam?”

Kristine looked at him, genuinely incredulous. “Of course. I adore my king. I would do anything for him.”

David’s heart broke at how much she endorsed her subjected fidelity. He let the issue drop and followed silently and soon the servant girls that flanked him were replaced by guards as they entered the concubines’ wing of the palace. He wondered if either of the guards might be Arnold’s past tryst.

Arnold... Never see him again?

Not if he had anything to smegging do with it.

*******

The king’s bedchamber (or rather sexchamber as he preferred to sleep elsewhere in peaceful solitude) was as luxurious as one might think – covered in bright wall-paintings, gilded in precious metals, filled with exotic silks and furs, permeated with soft incense, and displaying some rather daunting intimacy aids in a cabinet. The bed was round with a tent-like canopy lace draped from the ceiling above. David was suddenly struck with nerves as he realised the only window had closed lattice-shutters bringing in a moderately helpful breeze but cutting down his first means of escape. His plan to get out of this would have to be a little more cunning.

“His Majesty won’t be long,” said Kristine. “If you’d like to make any preparations, everything you should need can be found in the cabinet.”

Catching on to her meaning, David nodded and showed her a weak but convincing smile. He flinched slightly at the loud slam of the door and went across the room to see if his swathe of clothing would allow such a great feat as sitting down. Before he could attempt it, the door was flung open again and he was met with the confused face of the king. David smiled weakly again. “Heya!”

“The hell are you wearing?”

“Oh uh… not to your standards eh?”

Cat wrinkled his nose. “No offence but you look like a girl.”

“I think that was the point. Get you used to… me. I’ve heard that in some countries the blokes are so used to doing each other that when they marry a woman she dresses up like a boy to ease them in. So maybe they had, I dunno, the opposite idea?”

Cat tilted his head at him curiously before lifting an expert hand to David’s shoulder, pulling one clasp aside and stepping back as the whole ensemble fell to the floor.

David’s hands fled across his body to hide himself where the tiny loincloth didn’t cover. “You’ve done that before, haven’t you...”

“Coupla times,” said Cat with a toothy smugness. “Now, how about a drink, buddy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What David says about wives is true but I can never remember if it's Ancient Greece or Rome. More likely Greece, very likely both, ha. Also cutting their hair boyishly was meant to signify something about leaving their virginity behind. Yeah, right!


	16. No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I did not rate this story for Rape/Non-con, however this chapter's interaction between Cat and David may be triggering for some.**

“Oh Mr. Arnel, you can’t stay in here,” said Kryten when he saw Arnold draped over the Waiting Room bed. “You’ll be in grave trouble if they find you lolling about.”

“Just a little longer,” he replied, trying to hide his sniffling with a throaty ahem.

“Don’t fret, sir. I’m sure they’ll find you another assignment soon. There’s no need to be upset.”

“I’m not upset because of that, you blithering goitre. Are you really that blind?”

“I have perfect vision as far as I’m aware, Mr. Arnel.”

Arnold only groaned in response and buried his face back into the pillows, trying to inhale the last few molecules of sweet sex before it was gone forever.

*******

“This is good stuff,” said David, trying not to down his mead even though the situation called for it.

“We have some of the best alcohol in the world,” said the king proudly. “Not a fan myself. I don’t like anything that might affect my graceful poise.”

David laughed. “Personally I enjoy a Friday night stagger.” He poured another mouthful of the tasty beverage down his throat and let the tingling heat spread through his stomach so it could soothe or preferably drown the butterflies thrashing about inside. As he raised the chalice to his mouth again it was stopped by Cat’s hand over the top. David obediently lowered it with an anxious shudder.

“Cold?”

“Yeah well, I’m just in my underoos right now.”

Cat placed his hands on David’s shoulders and slowly began to push him back. “Why don’t we do something more invigorating? Get us warmed up.” His confident words and actions belied an insecurity that wasn’t lost on David as he watched the dark eyes dart about. Cat had a brooding look to his face as he over-thought every move. It reminded him a lot of Arnold’s, though his eyes were a paler hazel. Maybe the not-brothers were more alike than they knew. 

Not alike enough for David as a tongue far more skilled than Arnold’s teased his neck. He cringed but moaned convincingly enough that the king pushed him further until he was flush against the mattress. Cat hovered above him with a handsome smile before descending upon him and all David could think about was how the multi-nippled shaved chest rubbing against him was not the soft downy one from that morning.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He just had to put up with it until the king was vulnerable and then he could disable him somehow. Twat him, knee him in the bollocks, something like that. That was the easy part. But what then? Guards were everywhere, inside and outside. He’d probably be recognised. And then imprisoned. Tortured. Executed.

Live life as a toy for a privileged monarch, or die soon and possibly painfully. Both options left him without freedom.

Or Arnold.

“…Buddy?”

David opened one eye to see Cat sat up with a frown on his face.

“You okay? You look like you’re going to throw up.”

It was then he realised how badly he was shaking. “No, Your Majesty. I’m not okay,” his voice quivered.

“Bad mead?” Cat asked and sat back to give the human some much-needed air.

David gulped softly for air and shook his head. “Your Majesty, I can’t do this.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it, buddy. I don’t expect you to be as good as me straightaway.” Cat patted his back comfortingly. “It’s a learning curve.”

“No, I mean: I can’t do this ever. I don’t want to do this.”

The king’s mouth fell open. “Don’t… want… this? _Me_?”

“It’s not you,” David quickly reassured him. “You’re gorgeous.”

“That’s true. It’s okay to be intimidated.”

“It’s not that. The truth is, and I know it might sound a bit sappy, but I find it difficult to be with someone I don’t know. And honestly… I prefer to be with someone I love.”

“Love?”

“Yeah guy. You’ve never been in love?”

“I thought that was just in books and stuff.”

David was a die-hard romantic and what the king was telling him was one of the most tragic things he’d ever heard of. “Your Majesty, maybe you don’t need a new type of concubine. Maybe you just need to build better bonds with the ones you already have.” He poured out two fresh chalices of mead. “Maybe we should chat about this a little more.”

Cat held his drink in both hands and took small sceptical sips as David wrapped the blankets around him and considered the best way to explain love.


	17. Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sorry it's been so long. I started writing this chapter and it just wasn't flowing correctly. I stared angrily at it for weeks and the other day simply decided to completely restart it.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Would you believe I finished it (aside from proofing) in an hour? Wait, don't answer that!**

“Guards! Guards, it’s awful!” Kristine wailed as she ran throughout the halls. “Please, you must help!”

One particularly large warrior grabbed her firmly by the shoulder as she dashed past, completely missing them in her panic. “What’s all this fuss?”

“The king, His Majesty – I saw a man sneak into his room. I fear he’s in danger.”

“Are you quite sure, Kristelle?” said another.

“I believe it was that new foreign boy.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” scoffed the third. “Typical Brittanian – always turning up in other countries and causing trouble.”

“Ladies, we should investigate. Kristelle, you go and return to the Concubines’ Wing. You’ll be safer there.”

“Yes, thank you my Shieldmaidens,” she said and all but swooned as they marched away. Then she smiled to herself and sashayed after the guards towards the King’s bedchamber, careful to stay out of their sight.

*******

It was a slow and painful process deconstructing the king’s preconceptions. He’d been rather upset to find out that perhaps not all the women he’d been with had been willing (though David was disappointed that Cat was upset from the point of view that he’d been lied to) and that he’d have to release them.

David pondered. “Maybe releasing them would be a bad idea. If they’ve only known palace life it might be dangerous to chuck them out without any street-smarts. Are there any jobs they could have around here?”

“I always need more guards. You sure I have to get rid of my _entire_ harem?”

“It’s the right thing to do, sire. They’re prisoners. Think of it from their side of it. Imagine being made to do something you don’t want to do.”

“I do that all the time. You know how boring council meetings are? I don’t want to be there.”

David rubbed his face. “It’s really not the same thing at all. Don’t you care about them at all, love them, even after all this time?”

“I don’t need to. They love me.”

“You sure about that?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Cat was aghast at the thought. “I’m perfect.”

“Oh absolutely,” David agreed, wisely. “I mean, it’s my first time seeing six nipples on one chest but you make it look great. I just find it hard to believe you don’t love any of them. Isn’t there even one that –outside of sex – makes you smile, makes you think, makes you lonely when they’re not there?”

The king’s eyebrow flinched and David knew he had him.

“Your Majesty, someone popped into your head then, didn’t they?”

“I guess. There’s this one girl who’s kind of cool. Likes to sass me.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and nibbled them. “It’s cute sometimes.”

“Maybe she’s the one. Worth pursuing at any rate. Trust me mate, love is one of the most beautiful and devastating things you can experience, but it _is_ worth it. I think so anyway.”

“You’ve really been in love, Daviel?”

“Lots. But recently I found someone and it’s… different this time. Can’t really explain it. Kind of want to bundle him up and kiss him until he complains and hits me. S’pose that sounds weird.”

“Him?” Cat asked in surprise. Before David could answer the doors burst open and three guards surround the bed. The king held out his hands in pacification. “My warrior babes, what’s wrong?”

“There is a strange man in your bedchamber, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, right.” He glanced over at David. “That’s not what I normally have in here.”

“You invited him then, Your Majesty?”

“Whaaaaat? Hell no! This freak just turned up out of nowhere.”

The tallest guard pulled Lister from the bed and wrenched his hands behind his back. The warriors bowed to their king and dragged out their struggling conquest that proceeded to call the king every bad word he knew.


	18. Protection

Arnold heard the approaching clatter of armour and fell out of the bed scrambling along the mosaic floor to hide behind the shower’s privacy wall. He peeked out in horror as the door flew open and David was dumped unceremoniously to the ground. 

“I’ll stay outside and keep watch,” said the tallest guard. “Have fun, ladies.”

David sat up on his legs and feet and looked behind him at one of the guards taking out her whip. He’d had fantasies about this kind of thing but normally everyone was having fun. “Can we talk about this? I never done nothing, and I don’t mean that as a double-negative.”

“You accosted our king.”

“There wasn’t any accosting on either side. Swear to Cloistus!”

“We’ll get the truth out of you. On your hands and knees, foreigner.”

“This is getting to be a habit…” He thought about Arnold’s slippery, sweet, embarrassed, inexpert love-making the last time he was in this position, wishing he was back in that moment. He braced himself.

“Stop!”

David’s head snapped up and saw Arnold trembling so hard that his spear was a blur across his chest where he gripped it tightly for protection.

“Excuse me?” said the warrior with the whip in a half-laugh of incredulity. “Who – or rather _what_ – are you?”

Arnold swallowed his words immediately. What had he done? What was he doing? He was just some bastard child – only allowed to skulk around the palace out of the king’s pity. Not clever enough for a councillor, not strong enough for a soldier, not even funny enough for a fool. Useless, pointless, witless.

He looked down at David and saw the hope for rescue diminishing in his eyes. Arnold stamped down the thoughts and with renewed resolve he took a cautious step forward. “I’m a guard. I’m HIS guard. And I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Please. Ma’ams. Please. If you could.”

“Treason!” they gasped. “We’ll see you hanged by the end of the week for this.” They reached for their swords and Arnold shrieked in terror. He saw no other option but to take the offensive for once and he threw his spear.

He threw his spear downwards.

He threw his spear sideways and downwards.

It bounced on the ground and rocked where it eventually landed a mere yard away from the women’s toes. They held onto one another and screamed with laughter. It didn’t matter to Arnold – a distraction was a distraction and he took the opportunity to haul David from the floor and hug him fiercely. “Oh gods,” Arnold groaned. “We’re dead, we’re completely dead. You’re dead, I’m dead. We’re both dead.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because I’m a moron. An idiot. I should have given you the spear and legged it.”

David twisted in his arms and looked all around the room in desperation. They were too high up to jump from the windows. The other guard was outside the door. There was no time and not enough sheets to make a rope. “Hey,” he said, smiling up at Arnold. “I doubt I would have been a better shot. I’d have probably thrown it blunt-end first.”

“You’re just saying that so I don’t feel bad whilst I’m waiting to be tortured and executed.”

Then David felt his grip tighten around his back and realised the guards’ laughter was waning. He followed Arnold’s frightened stare and saw the tallest guard from before coming into the room with her sword raised.

“What’s all this noise?” she demanded and the other two lowered theirs with humble apologies. Upon spotting the lovers she gave a merry chortle. “Oh I see.” She picked up Arnold’s spear and used the iron head to tilt his chin upwards to meet her eyes as she lifted her visor.

He gulped. “You’re…”

“Causing trouble as usual, aren’t you Normanus?”


	19. Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long - Life sucks at the moment. Please send good vibes and maybe porn.

“Yvonnya…”

David could hear Arnold’s voice trying not to tremble in front of the imposing woman smirking in front of them.

“Lady Gladiator,” asked one of the other guards, “do you know this… I suppose ‘man’ would be the closest word.”

Yvonnya moved the spear’s tip away from Arnold’s face and spun it lazily like a bo staff. “Yes, and I know better than you what his sex is.” She chuckled to herself. “Not the best twelve minutes of my life. But a very tasty pizza.”

Arnold groaned. _Bring on the torture and execution_ , he thought. _Anything to end this humiliation._

“Gonna introduce us, Arn? Or is it Normanus now? How many names you got, mate?”

“Ah, well…” - he looked down at David sheepishly - “she called me Normanus during and it felt impolite to correct her.”

“Speaking of impolite,” the guard piped up again, “you’re spoiling our fun, Lady Gladiator.”

Yvonnya brought the spear back down against her thigh and scrutinised the two men carefully. Arnold didn’t know if it was a good idea or a bad idea to keep clinging to David in front of them all but he wasn’t about to let go for anything. The other man seemed to agree, going by the sharp impressions his fingernails were making in Arnold’s skin. The intensity of the embrace wasn’t lost on the sharp senses of the gladiator. “Let them have this last night,” she said after a soft sigh.

“But La-”

“We’ve no authority to punish them without trial. They’ll be judged come morn, by those far more qualified than us. Until then, let’s not spoil _their_ fun.”

The other guards pouted but obediently followed as she led them out, leaving one behind to keep watch outside the door.

“Must have been a better twelve minutes than she let on if she’s letting us live,” said David.

Arnold didn’t reply. He was savouring the press of David’s cheek against his chest as they thought about their lives’ eventual conclusion with trepidation.

*******

“Where’re they taking that guy?”

“Please don’t fret, Your Majesty.”

“I never fret; I’m a pacifist.”

Ĉasisto, who had turned up after hearing the commotion from the guards dragging the vocally appalled David through the corridors, decided it was not worth his neck to correct the king. “They will take him back to the Waiting Room, carry out his punishment and leave him to fester until his hanging.”

That didn’t sound like a jolly old time for David and Cat rather liked him even though he hadn’t put out. “Couldn’t we maybe… not… do that?”

“What kind of example is that for any other would-be assassins? You must be more firm, Your Majesty.”

“Well I’m never firmer than when I’m in my bedroom,” he said and then brightened up when he saw Kristine hovering in his doorway. “Talking of firm – hey there baby! Here to check out the hubbub?”

“Whatever is going on?” she asked innocently.

Cat shooed Ĉasisto away and snuck off with Kristine to a private corner of the room where he poured himself another drab of mead. “Okay so, check this; my party with that Brit-guy got stormed and they’re probably gonna kill him in the morning.”

“Probably?”

“Very super likely.”

“Definitely, I should think, Your Majesty. Didn’t you tell them he was here consensually?”

“Of course not! Think of my rep, babe.”

_As expected_. “You could pardon him.”

“Fox-boy doesn’t like that idea. Something about examples of asses. I wasn’t listening. But I can’t just leave him down there. I’d feel… _sucky_ about it. I hate feeling sucky. I break out in zits for at least a week, and I’m being painted by THE Hollicelli in a few days.”

“I’m sure they won’t paint your acne, Your Majesty.”

“And now Daviel’s being beaten and whipped an-”

“What?” Kristine gasped. She was genuinely horrified. She only wanted them to take David away, throw him into a cell, and then once things settled down the king could pardon him before it got messy. That way David won his freedom back and all he had to do was play the part of a pawn, and more importantly Kristine would win Cat back and he would be none the wiser, not that he ever was. She tugged the sleeve of the robe he’d hastily thrown on when Ĉasisto arrived. “We must get to him.”

“But Ĉasisto said…”

“You. Are. The. King. YOU can do whatever YOU want. Now let’s GO.”

He set down his empty glass immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide if I wanted Norman-Holly or Hattie-Holly so I used the gender-neutral 'they' and you can decide for yourself which one you want.


	20. Reveal

“I don’t fancy trying to shimmy down that, do you?”

Arnold squashed up against David’s shoulder and mirrored his position of hanging his upper torso out of the window and squinting at the flat stony courtyard far below. “Not particularly,” he replied with a grimace. Even if they landed safely, they would be swarmed by guards in seconds.

They both pulled back and looked at one another in companionable misery. David scratched at his arm awkwardly. “Suppose we should do what your ex suggested and make the most of our last night.”

Arnold slumped against the wall. “Call me crazy but what with the matter of our executions scheduled to occur in a few hours, it seems my virility is rather impeded.”

“Impending death _is_ a bit of a mood-killer,” David said, laughing quietly. He stood in front of Arnold and fell gently upon his chest. “How about you just hold me?”

“That I can do.”

Before Arnold could even raise his arms they both jumped at the sound of the guard’s frightened voice outside the door. It slammed open and King Cat sauntered in with a look of relief. “Oh dude, buddy, glad I caught you with your head still on!”

Arnold pushed David aside and strode over to him, completely incensed. “You selfish hapless bastard – don’t you have anything better to say for yourself?”

“Uh,” – the king stalled – “My bad?”

“Your bad? Your BAD? I’m going to be executed tomorrow!”

“So you’re upset.”

“Upset? I’m rather furious, actually.”

Cat held placating palms out towards his antagonised brother. “Aw c’mon, like I’d let that happen.” His face fell when he saw that Arnold was serious. “You really thought I’d stand back and let them kill you? You make me sound like I’m some kind of psychic.”

It took Arnold a moment to realise he meant ‘psycho’. “No I… I hoped you’d come to my rescue. Again,” he added, slightly humiliated. “It was David I was worried for.”

“Why? He’s just a slave.”

David looked away from Cat’s curious gaze sheepishly. “Well he’s me guard, Your Majesty. Doesn’t reflect all that good on him if I get me head lopped off.”

Cat’s expression didn’t change. The embarrassed glances between the two men didn’t escape his keen eye. The king didn’t understand what went on in the government. He didn’t understand how the economy worked. He didn’t understand agriculture, or science, or medicine. But he knew two people hiding desire when he saw it. “Wait… is Arnelle… is he the guy you were telling me about in bed?”

“You did what!” Arnold squeaked.

“Not in bed like _that_! He didn’t do anything, we just talked,” said David.

“First time for everything,” said someone else. It was then that David and Arnold noticed Kristine behind the king. She cleared her throat. “David, I owe you an apology. I was the one who called the guards. I was going to help you escape the dungeon before the morning, honestly. I didn’t think they’d bring you here.”

Arnold scoffed. “Oh you’re sorry. That makes it all right then.” But his malice was short-lived as Cat slammed a hand on his back in delight. 

“Buddy, you finally got laid. I'm so proud of you!”

“Not _finally_ , not _finally_ at all! I’ve had sex before – lots of times!”

“Sure you have.”

He spluttered in response until David laid a soothing hand on his arm. “Easy guy.” He turned back to the king. “So, this doesn’t bother you, Your Majesty?”

“Nah. I’m just glad he’s found something to do that’ll keep him out of trouble. I mean some-one.” He grinned then looked around the room, suddenly bored. “Can we go now, Kristelle?”

Kristine tapped her foot. “You’re the king, remember,” she hinted.

“Oh yeah, I can do what I want.” He twirled around and yowled. “Later, buds.”

“That’s it?” Arnold snapped. “No reparations or anything after what you put us through.”

“I told you I can’t get you in the military.”

“Well what about David? There must be something he wants.”

David looked from Arnold to the king and back again and sighed regretfully. He did know what he wanted, but it would mean losing something very dear to him. He took a deep breath and avoided Arnold’s hurt stare as he asked for his freedom.


End file.
